


Dirty Pool (Kozik X OC/Reader, Lyla X Opie)

by Sk8er_Chica



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Competition, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Pool & Billiards, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sk8er_Chica/pseuds/Sk8er_Chica
Summary: During a party at the clubhouse, Opie and Kozik find out their old ladies are just as competitive as they are.





	Dirty Pool (Kozik X OC/Reader, Lyla X Opie)

"Ready, man?" asked Kozik, locking hands with Opie, each with an elbow on the table.

"You watchin' this, honey?" Opie asked Lyla.

She nodded, stirring the ice in her drink with her straw. You set Kozik's mostly-full beer bottle on your lap because you know he'll knock it over if you don't. Your old men were already on their umpteenth arm-wrestling match of the night. Kozik may be smaller than Opie, but his biceps make him a force to be reckoned with.

Kozik nodded at you. "Count us down."

"Three...two...one...go," you said, a little dully.

Opie's arm crashed to the tabletop before you or Lyla could blink. You wordlessly returned Kozik's beer. 

"Whassamatter, babe?" Kozik asked you. "I think the girls are gettin' bored," said Opie. "I got an idea, though."

"Is it strip poker?" Tig was obnoxiously drunk and staggering through the clubhouse. "I loooooooove strip pokerrrrrr! Y'know what they say....four's company 'n five's an orgy."

"Yeah, you'd love to see my dick, wouldn't ya, Tinkerbell?" Kozik said gruffly, pursing his lips in a mock kiss at him.

"What's your idea, Ope?" you asked, laying a placating hand on your old man's forearm and hoping it would be enough to keep him from tackling Tig to the ground.

(You didn't feel like patching up any injuries tonight, even though watching Kozik fight always makes you horny).

"How 'bout a game of pool?" Opie suggested.

"Me and Y/N against you and Lyla?"

"I was thinkin' the girls against us. Best two outta three."

Kozik nodded. "Yeah, an' make a bet. Like....losers hafta do a sexy pole dance."

"I do enough of that kinda shit at work," Lyla groaned.

"I'll see your pole dance and raise you doing dishes for, say, a month," you countered.

"No skin off my nose," Opie shrugged. "Gemma got us a brand-new dishwasher for our wedding."

"You lose, you gotta do it the old-fashioned way," you said.

"For a month? No way!" the guys cried in unison.

"What about just two weeks?" Kozik haggled.

You looked to your best friend. "Lyla?"

"It's a bet," she agreed.

"Well, let's snag ourselves the table before somebody starts fuckin' on it," said Kozik.

"You boys are goin' down," said Lyla, extending a hand so Opie could help her off the bar stool.

"Oh, baby, I love it when you talk dirty," teased Opie.

“Prospect!” Kozik barked, tossing down the last of his beer. “Get us some more drinks!”

While he meticulously racked the balls, you and Lyla helped yourselves to pool cues.

“That’s almost taller ‘n you are,” Kozik snorted, dodging the swat you aimed at his arm.

Opie gathered his hair at the base of his neck and tied it in a ponytail with a rubber band he produced from who-knows-where.

“Uh-oh, he’s getting serious,” said Lyla.

Opie gestured grandly with his beer bottle. “Ladies first.”

You and Lyla lost the first game.

“You can do it, Y/N!” Lyla encouraged early in the second.

You appreciated her confidence; she knew how bad your hand-eye coordination was under the best of circumstances, let alone after you'd been drinking. Instead of the cue ball, the tip of your stick made contact with the table’s surface.

“Ooh! Another scratch!” Kozik howled triumphantly.

“Hey! Watch the felt!” Clay shouted from across the room.

The table had recently been repaired after one of Tig and Kozik’s more spectacular disagreements.

Lyla tipped her head towards the bar, motioning for you follow.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss Kozik’s cheek.

Standing at the far end of the bar, Lyla sighed and looked sadly at her glittery manicure. “Well, this was nice while it lasted.”

“Don’t say that, Lyla. We can still win.”

“Opie’s been playing pool since he could see over the table.” Lyla said. “We don’t have a chance, hon.”

“We just need a new strategy,” you said. "We give 'em a little more whiskey and neither one'll be able to see straight."

Lyla whispered another idea in your ear.

“That seems like cheating,” you said slowly.

“Y/N, sweetie, all’s fair in love and war, right?” Lyla asked. “We're SAMCRO old ladies and our bazooms are our weapons!”

Both of you dissolved into a fit of giggles at the quote from a cheesy Johnny Depp movie you had watched during your last girls’ night. Lyla grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the clubhouse bathroom.

“How come girls always gotta go together?” Kozik mused at the pool table.

“Mysteries of life, brother,” drawled Opie.

It was still early in the evening for a SAMCRO party, so the bathroom was mericfully free of anyone vomiting or engaged in sex acts. Once the two of you had squeezed into the bathroom and shut the door, you got to work, starting with reapplying your lipstick.

"Outlaw Red, nice," said Lyla, checking the sticker on the bottom of your tube. She produced a small bottle of perfume from her purse. "Do a quick spin for me."

"That smells great," you declared as she spritzed you with something sweet and tropical.

“Just remember, it can’t be TOO obvious,” instructed Lyla, undoing a couple of more buttons on her skin-tight blouse. “How’s my ass look?”

“Perfect. How’s mine?” You turned sideways.

“Ooh! Like you could bounce a quarter off it, girl.” She gave it a playful smack.

“You know, Herman’s tried that,” you told her.

You both burst out laughing and it took at least a couple of minutes to stop. You adjusted yourself inside your bra, then tugged down your shirt to expose just a hint more cleavage.

“I seriously need to call your guy about getting one of those,” said Lyla, gesturing at the black tank top you'd had custom-printed with Kozik's crow. “You know, but with mine on it. Ope would _love_ it.”

“He’d _love_ helping you out of it,” you snickered.

“Well, honey, I don’t mind,” she said in what she called her phone sex voice, pouting at the mirror as she fixed her hair. “Okay, sweetie, game faces are on. Let’s do this!”

You high-fived each other, giggling. When Lyla opened the door, you almost ran headlong into Jax, who had a Caracara girl under his arm.

“You two having fun?” he asked, glad for Opie’s sake that you and Lyla had become so close. She needed a friend who wasn't a porn star.

“We’re about to,” laughed Lyla.

“So am I, darlin’s,” Jax winked.

Before resuming the game of pool, you and Lyla ordered another round of drinks from Chuckie, who was a better bartender than anyone gave him credit for. You took a long sip, closing your eyes as the alcohol settled with a soft burn.

“Jesus, it took you long enough,” Kozik mock-griped.

“Ladies’ turn." Opie hooked a thumb at the table. "You weren't trying to delay losing again, were you, Lyla?"

"We'll just see about that," she said.

You smiled sweetly and lined up your next shot.

“Y’know, if ya keep both yer eyes open, you’ll see twice as good,” Kozik teased.

You responded by letting your fingers trail over his wallet chain the next time you walked behind him, making sure to brush against his ass in the process. If Kozik noticed, he kept a poker face. When it was Lyla’s turn, she took a long time chalking the tip of her cue and running her hands over it.

“Didn’t know you were so into pool,” Opie remarked.

Lyla, who’d been trying to be classier, chose not to reply with some of her more memorable movie lines.

Kozik was next. You watched him consider his next move. Bracing your palms on the table rail, you leaned way over. Kozik raised his eyes for a split second and found himself looking right down your top. He’s seen your breasts much more up close and personal, but he can’t help staring at them. The way they’re almost threatening to spill out of that body-hugging tank marked with his crow, the same crow inked onto your right hip. His shot went wild. Opie moaned at their collective luck.

“Good thing I’m here to save your ass,” he teased.

Right about then, Lyla started shimmying to the song playing on the jukebox. Mesmerized by the motion of his wife’s hips, Opie’s poorly-aimed shot sent a striped ball into one of the pockets.

“Thanks for helping us out, hon,” said Lyla, standing on her toes to kiss his bearded cheek.

Lyla prepared to take her next turn. Opie watched her like a hawk, stroking his beard. Lyla imagined the last time she had felt those callused fingers gently undressing her before disappearing between her legs. The impact of her cue on the ball was more of a stutter.

“Scratch!” the guys gloated in unison.

“Better luck next time, baby,” Opie added.

“Lyla, focus!” you hissed in her ear when you saw Opie’s hand go into his beard again.

When it was your turn, Kozik stretched his arms over his head. His T-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of his tan, muscular stomach. Heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol flooded into your face and the pit of your own stomach. Kozik noticed your gaze and decided to up the ante. He ran his tongue over his lips, which always made you think of how good both could make you feel. He not-so-subtly raised the hem of his shirt, showing off more of his tummy.

“C’mon, Koz, quit it,” said Lyla, stepping in front of him. “You’re distracting Y/N; that’s bullshit.”

“Really.” Kozik said, drawing out the word.

“You girls think we don’t know what it looks like when you’re working your mojo?” asked Opie.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lyla replied with doe-eyed innocence.

“Koz?” said Opie.

They looked at each other and nodded. Your respective old men scooped you up, putting you over their shoulders fast enough to make your vision blur. The rest of SAMCRO cheered and hooted.

Kozik carried you down the hall to his dorm. You kissed him hungrily, catching his pouty lower lip between your teeth. He growled in the back of his throat and pulled your tank top over your head, tossing it to the floor.

You both fell to the bed. Kozik slid your skirt off your hips, then began to stroke your crow tattoo with his thumb. You heard a breathless “Opie!” through the thin walls. Kozik ground himself against you, or rather, your panties, which he had left on.

“Is this makin’ you horny?” he asked, even though he damn well knew the answer.

His tongue explored your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Kozik rubbed your thigh and massaged your breasts over your bra with his free hand. You could tell he was hard through his jeans, getting harder as he continued his lazy thrusts. His hand slipped inside your bra to play with your nipple.

“Am I turnin’ you on? Huh?” Kozik’s voice was huskier than usual. “Is Y/N all wet for her big, bad biker?”

“Oh God, I want you,” you panted, every nerve below your waist feeling charged with electricity.

Kozik stopped moving, but stayed straddling you.

“It’s no fun gettin’ teased, is it?” Kozik asked, an impish gleam in his blue eyes.

You grabbed onto his kutte and pushed your hips toward him, desperately trying to create some friction.

"Herman," you groaned.

“Herman what?” He took his hand out of your bra. “Herman, stop?”

“Herman, kiss me.”

Kozik played dumb. “Kiss you where?”

Frustrated, you tried to wriggle out of your panties.

“Goddamn if you don’t look hotter when you beg,” said Kozik.


End file.
